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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
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Chapter Ten
Upon waking we were given RU486, to abort any pregnancy.
Despite the men's zest to inseminate us, it was for pleasure only. A
woman fed Julie and I the pills. I remember her large bosoms, just
covered across the nipples by a low-cut blouse. I fell back to sleep
then, shifting my aching thighs in the cool sheets of the bed.
It wasn't until early evening that I finally woke up completely.
We'd had only a limited sleep the night before, what with the "grave
digging," but now I was finally fully rested. I rose, stretched, winced
at the few remaining twinges of discomfort. Julie was humming in the
lavatory, applying makeup to a face that needed none. I skipped into the
lav and relieved myself on the toilet. She smiled at me.
"Did you know that, except for what the count has provided for us,
we don't have any clothes? Or money? Or passports?" she asked. I
considered this.
"I suppose we can tell him at dinner that we want our stuff, what
little is left of it. Supposedly Mistress Pussy (we both laughed),
supposedly Mistress Pussy gave it to him when he..."
"Bought us?" Julie asked. She was standing on tiptoe before the
mirror, utterly naked, ravishingly beautiful. Her big bosoms swayed
gently with her every slight movement. She reminded me of Helga.
"Unwillingly," I said, meaning Julie and I. We had not put
ourselves up for sale. We were not whores, as she feared we might be.
"Are we unwilling now?" Julie asked.
"How much money do you have?"
"Nothing."
"Me neither."
"Then we are not trollops," she said, relieved.
"Do you think about Dan much?" I asked, curious. She had always
prided herself on being a faithful young wife. Julie thought a moment.
I couldn't tell whether she was considering whether to apply more
makeup or how to answer me.
"I do, now and then," she said. "But when he deserted us, and I
saw him with those little girls, well..."
"You sort of put him out of your mind?"
"Yes. It wasn't love, or hate. I just sort of put him away for
awhile. I guess when we get back to America Dan and I will pick up
just where we left off, as if nothing else ever happened."
"He might find you a slightly easier fuck," I said, my tongue-tip
sticking out sexily between my teeth in an absent-minded display.
Julie giggled. Her breasts wobbled.
"He might," she said, blushing. "If this keeps up." I stepped up
behind her and pressed my nudity into her bottom. I stroked her bare
flanks with my hands. There was no purpose to it, no meaning, just the
atmosphere of the moment, of our strange surroundings.
"The count hasn't had us yet," I said.
"He wants you badly," Julie replied, touching up her perfect eyes
with eyeliner.
"He scares me," I said.
"Me too."
From the bedroom doorway Burton called us to dinner.
"Girls, are you up?" Burton hailed us.
"Yes," we replied together, our voices happy, high-pitched.
"The count requires your presence at dinner."
"Okayyy," we called back. We were captive doves, song birds,
controlled by another. Yet I felt special, spoiled. Being a prisoner
wasn't entirely disagreeable. It all depended on who the warden was.
Ours, at least, strove to be a gentleman, though I sensed an inner
wildness in him, an uncontrollable passion and rage. It drew me toward
him even as every fiber of my body screamed at me to flee.
We skipped downstairs and flounced poutily into our chairs. The
count observed us from the head of the table, outfitted in an expensive
tux. A girl pranced out then, dressed in a tightly-stretched tee that
was stuffed into a daringly short miniskirt. She wore sneakers.
"Hi! I'm your waitress for this evening! My name's Mandy!" She
oozed youthfulness and childish enthusiasm. Too much of it. "The count
is sooo nice. He gave his staff the night off and let me be the serving
girl! Would you like shrimp salad or antipasto as your appetizer?" I
didn't hear the question. My mind was reeling, confused, still focused
on the girl herself. I knew what she was, even if she didn't.
Competition. The count wanted her not for her serving skills but for
her body. Instantly I wanted the count for myself. I felt my resistance
to him melting. I would be his lover, not she!
"Whatever the count wishes I will have," I replied pertly.
"I also," Julie said, with a submissive glance toward our host.
"Very well," Mandy said, screwing up her features and writing
something on a pad with a number two pencil. She turned to the count.
"Sir?"
"The antipasto, please," he replied. He looked very pleased with
himself.
Mandy skipped back to the kitchen.
"You two proved yourselves most worthy this morning," the count
addressed us as we sat with heads bowed. "Outwitted even me, then
showed yourselves to be every ounce females."
"Thank you, sir," we said. We knew not what else to say, gazed at
our place settings. I hoped he would change the subject. Girls do not
like to boast of their sexual escapades as men do. After a bit I
looked up, felt a boldness overcome me. My mind had drifted back to
Mandy, my rival. "Did you enjoy yourself this morning, sir?"
"Indeed I did," he said. "However, I should like to have disported
with the guests of honor. But it would not have been seemly for the
host to deprive his guests of the opportunity."
"Meaning..." I said, sassy as ever. "That we were so popular you
couldn't get near us?" He cleared his throat.
"In a manner of speaking, yes. I'm very jealous about the girls I
like, actually. Events got out of hand, I lost control. I don't like losing
control," he said, his voice growing darker.
"Then you must find yourself stupider girls," I said tauntingly.
Mandy skipped out from the kitchen and I shot a knowing glance toward
her.
"Yes, yes," the count said, dropping his gaze to his place setting,
aimlessly fiddling with a fork. I had pushed him onto the ropes yet
again. How many more times could I get away with it, bearding this
lion? Not many, I knew.
Mandy brought in two plates, balanced precariously in her small
hands. She made to serve the count, but he gestured to Julie and I.
Then she did a little cheerleader's pirouette on her tennies and
scampered back to the kitchen. Her shapely bottom peeked out from
underneath her mini.
"Lovely girl, don't you think?" the count asked us, following her
ass with an admiring gaze.
"She's nice," Julie said. She sat with her hands folded in her lap.
"If you like kindergarten girls," I said, poking at my salad, not
waiting for the others.
"Now, now, Kimmy," the count said with a voice of disapproval
that rang false. He was enjoying my jealousy. "Mandy is a full fourteen
years old, only a year younger than you. She showed herself to be quite
the Olympian this morning, in our outdoor games."
"I hadn't noticed," I said, forking lettuce and a strip of cheese into
my mouth. Julie waited for the count.
Mandy trotted back in, served the count, then set the remaining
antipasto at her own place and joined us. We sat on one side of the
table, she on the other, the count at the head observing all.
"May we play again after dinner, sir?" Mandy asked brightly after
forking down her salad.
"Why yes, dear, whatever you wish."
"Oooh, goody!" She leapt up and took her own plate, asked the
count for his.
"I'm not quite done yet, honey," he replied.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Does that make me a bad girl?" Mandy asked. She
made as if to prepare herself to go over his knee.
"No, no," the count said dismissively. Now was not the time.
"Bring forth the main course while we finish."
"Yessir!" she scuttled away, her skirt flipping up with her every
bouncy step. Her panties were white cotton and too small.
The dinner, at least, was delicious, roast beef sliced by Burton
and served with horseradish sauce; baked potatoes with chives and sour
cream; fresh, snappy string beans from the count's garden; and much
more.
"You'll make us into three fat little pigs," Julie laughed.
"Mmm, fatten you up, will I?" the count considered. "Indeed I will
if I don't start you girls on the pill." Mandy laughed abruptly into her
hand, like the little girl she still was.
"Oh, monseigneur, you can be sooo funny!" she said delightedly. I
longed to toss her over my knees and wallop her until she cried. Smack
that insufferable cheeriness out of her tight little bottom, with its
chubby cheeks that hung so alluringly out of her undersized undies.
Desert followed, strawberry shortcake. Mandy gave herself a
creamy moustache just as I knew she would. Lustily she drained a full
glass of milk. Wiggling, she asked to be excused to pee.
"When the others have finished, dear," the count said.
"Oooh, but I have to go now," Mandy begged.
"Learn to hold it," the count said. His voice countenanced no
dissent. Mandy squirmed uncomfortably in her high-backed chair.
"Burton, see to the dishes," the count commanded finally,
indicating that our evening meal was at an end. He invited we three
girls to accompany him downstairs. There was no possibility of
declining the invitation.
The count took Mandy by the hand, ignoring her needful gyrations.
Julie and I held hands and followed. Down the hall we went then,
coming to a door, we were admitted by the count who locked it behind
us. Standing in darkness, we waited. He flipped a switch. Torches
burst into flame, gas fired. They illuminated a small landing, upon
which we stood. Beyond they glowed upon the walls of a descending
staircase. Tentatively Julie and I took the first step. The count and
Mandy followed, pushing us ahead by their presence. I had a sinking
feeling about where we were going. Julie and I exchanged glances. We
wore only short, collared midriffs, mine with sleeves and hers without.
Below I sported a pleated tennis skirt and she narrow-legged jeans. We
both wore our heels. Julie had a charm bracelet on one ankle. The
appearance of our dangling earrings teetered between sporty
functionality and dressiness.
Clip-clip-clip went our heels, businesslike, as we descended the
stone stairs. At last we came to the bottom, facing a wooden door. The
count pushed past us, unlocked the door, admitted us to an alcove with
yet another door at the far end. Reaching it first, he bid me open it.
There was naught but darkness inside. He urged us forward anyhow.
Following, he locked us all inside. A girlish gasp went up as he flipped
on the lights, torch-light.
We stood in an awesome chamber, dwarfed by torture machines of
every shape and variety. Racks, ladders, spits (for roasting what I
know not), crosses, and "seats" with upright dildoes placed menacingly
right where the bottom hoped to find purchase. Dan's little homemade
place looked like a sunday school compared to this dungeon.
"I thought you girls might like to see an authentic dungeon," the
count said happily. He strode forward, gestured widely. "This was
actually used during the inquisition to procure confessions. I've added
a few items of my own, some actually of my design, built by carpenters
to my specifications." We stood stock still, huddled together like three
lost lambs. Even Mandy had ceased her wriggling. The count took down
a whip from an open-work wooden armoire. He turned it thoughtfully on
his palm. "Only the finest of implements are kept here," he assured us.
"All perfectly balanced. Precisely carved. They are all works of art in
their own right. As are the girls whom I invite to partake of them." He
eyed us. Was his look savage, or was it only my terrified imagination?
"There are hooks on the wall behind you for your clothes," the
count said. "Disrobe yourselves, and I will show you around."
"Sir-" Julie began, plaintively.
"One cannot experience the true nature of a dungeon all suited up
and protected," the count gently explained. "You must be as they were,
naked and vulnerable. Come now, you wished to tour France, did you
not? You must get off the bus and experience it first hand."
Mandy danced an impromptu jig, spurred once more by her bladder.
"Do they have a bathroom here?" she asked plaintively. The inevitable
question of every tourist.
"All your needs will be attended to," the count replied. He
uncoiled his whip and it cracked the air. "Undress!"
Hurriedly we stripped ourselves of our clothes and hung them on
the hooks provided. The generosity of the count knows no bounds, I
muttered to myself as I hung up my skirt.
"Must we take off our panties too?" Mandy asked. Sans shirts, we
were instantly topless, for we all had taken to dinner without bras.
"Yes! Off with those too!" the count said crisply, as if directing
valets.
Soon we stood shivering in the cool air of the dungeon with
nothing on save our pumps and earrings. Julie had even taken off her
anklet.
"I'm chilly now, and have to pee more than ever!" Mandy piped up.
She'd put both hands on her pussy and was squeezing and grimacing.
"Follow me, girls," the count said.
With mincing steps we trailed behind as the count began pointing
out his favorite items in the dungeon. Gradually Julie became an
interested spectator. "Oooh, we have one like this," she'd say, lifting
the cuff on a particular piece of equipment, testing its resiliency. I
confess I myself saw some likenesses between Dan's machines and
those here, and the ones I couldn't figure out piqued my interest. Mandy
became increasingly miserable as she burned evermore to pee.
Finally the count, with a touch of exasperation, ordered Mandy
forward. We turned down a side row of machines and came to a small
clearing with several posts in the middle of it. He ordered her forward
and told her to lean up against one of the shorter posts. Then, looking
at Julie and I, he ordered us to the posts also. I had begun to feel a
need to pee and was glad to go, but this seemed not the way. I balked,
the count clasped me by my bottom and urged me forward. I stood up
against the post, erect, found a small hump upon which to partially rest
the outer curve of my bottom. The other girls had posts of a similar
design.
The wine at dinner must have made me somewhat forgetful, for I
should have known then what I was getting into. I stood docilely as the
count took a belt affixed to the back of the post and buckled the wide
leather strap just underneath my breasts. The belt was tight and thick,
it had not quite cleared the underside of my bosoms and had the effect
of pushing them up, offering my nipples to the count or whoever might
observe them. Next my shoulders were drawn back and my wrists
secured tightly behind me, in manacles set in the rear of the post. The
count kicked my legs into a wide vee, my hips already thrust forward by
the odd shape of the post. Manacles set in the floor secured my wide-
spread ankles.
Mandy was attended to next, with a few admonitory slaps to get
her to hold still long enough to be bound. "But there's no toilet here!"
Mandy cried. The count only said he'd gag her if she didn't shush.
Julie stood drowsily. She reminded me of a horse waiting to be
saddled. The count eased her into her bonds with a special tenderness,
almost deferentially. Finally we three stood trussed like turkeys to
our posts, tightly bound with no escape. Our bosoms high, hips thrust
out, legs boldly spread, showing off our cunts. He admired us a
moment, then took a stack of three china bowls from a table and placed
one underneath each of us, between our legs. He rang a bell and two
men and a woman entered from a side door.
He invited the men, dressed formally, to drop their trousers, and
simultaneously dispensed with his own. Three cocks disported on the
air, and all three men enclasped their pulsing rods with their right
hands.
"Like you, I find the sight of a girl peeing one of the most alluring
in the world," the count addressed his companions. "Let us enjoy these
three to the full, shall we? Erica," (the woman, in an evening dress), "I
see you have your wonderful ostrich feather. Help along the cunny of
any girl who cannot get her stream started." With that the count told
Mandy to relieve herself to her heart's content, and Julie and I to
release our water also.
"Oh I cannot go now!" Mandy screeched. She was looking down at
her lewdly displayed cunt, desperate. Erica strolled over and began
tickling her up with the ostrich feather, concentrating solely, of
course, on her puss. Mandy attempted to wriggle away from the
tickling, found she couldn't move an inch. Her thighs strained, flexed
desperately, her tummy heaved. With a plaintive wail she burst then, in
a flood that might have got even Noah's attention. The men began
rubbing themselves vigorously at the spectacle.
I looked at Julie, and she at me. I did not have to go too badly yet,
and neither did she. But we exchanged smiles and then, by mutual
consent, began pissing, if only for the men's pleasure. Anyway who
knew how long it would be before we would be allowed to pee again.
When one is naked as a jaybird in a dungeon it is best to take advantage
of any opportunities for relief, of whatever kind.
For the next minute or so the men must have been in heaven as we
three females made our water for them. Some of it splashed from my
bowl onto my ankles. The count said this was why he had tethered my
legs so wide apart. I didn't believe him.
A young man was one of the guests and he asked if they all could
fuck us when we finished. "No, for I am reserving them," the count
replied. "You shall have to satisfy yourselves at a distance. Use your
handkerchiefs to catch your seed so that you do not mess my dungeon."
Dutifully the two men drew their kerchiefs from their formal coat
pockets and put them over the heads of their penises with their free
hands. They increased their rubbing and worked their hips back and
forth. This was the first I'd ever seen men deliberately jerk
themselves off, as opposed to merely idly frigging their dongs. I was
fascinated. Their cocks were big enough that you could still see much
of the meatus. They wanted to come while we were still peeing so they
really went at it. Julie too seemed intent on enjoying this, Mandy was
busy suffering under the feather of Erica, who had decided to tickle her
wiggly titties.
"Please, don't," Mandy moaned.
"I'm helping them to grow," Erica replied cheerily.
"My mommie says they're too big already for my age," Mandy
protested.
"And where is your mommie? Why aren't you home?" Erica asked.
"I wan away," Mandy lisped.
"Then you must be made to feel happy so you'll go back," Erica
said, and tickled the girl into peals of tortured laughter.
Finally the tinkling in our bowls ceased. I looked down. Mine was
almost full. I felt a few lingering drops ooze out and splash into the
waiting urine. Droplets of gold, offered to the count and his randy
companions for their genital enjoyment. Julie too gave a final offering
of tardy droplets. The men gazed, fascinated, still hoping for release.
Then it happened. The young man first, followed by the older. He jerked
like a girl being pierced for the first time. I saw his cockhead twitch
in its soft covering of protective linen. Carefully he collected his seed
as it spurted out. His right hand worked on, until every drop was
deliciously released. This he did while staring directly at my sweetly
dripping cunt. Our eyes met and I knew I liked him, despite his
perversity right in front of me. Julie seemed to favor the older man.
The count had ceased rubbing his own member, for he wished to hang on
to his seed a little longer.
"May we at least rub their cunts?" the young man, finished with
his business at hand, asked the count. Erica came by and collected their
handkerchiefs from them. Then she slipped off to have the
handkercheifs saved, "as mementos."
"Yes, go ahead, it will make them more agreeable guests," the
count replied with a grand gesture, as if giving free rides to the men in
his new sports car. The men advanced upon us, our cunts unwillingly
but oh so invitingly offered. The young one greeted me first, as if
introducing himself to me at a party. Then, tenderly, he looked down at
my displayed pudenda and took it in hand. He fingered it, feeling its
feminine contours, began massaging. I tilted my head back and purred,
not wanting to but having to. Julie gave the same involuntary sound.
"And how are you?" the count asked Mandy, and did to her as the
men were doing to us, save that he gently massaged his cock while
attending to her slit.
Erica returned and remarked upon the beauty of our bosoms, asked
the count if she could take a turn at Julie and I. He readily agreed, to
my dismay, and I was soon lurching under the luring attention of her
feather. "Do not let them come, however," the count warned. "Toy with
them at the brink if you like, but I wish for them still to be in need
when I take over."
Julie soon received Erica's special attentions also, writhing and
pleading with every whisking touch of this most gentle of instruments
of torment. I watched the twistings of her nude body, her nipples so
stiff, her clitty, hidden from my view but doubtless utterly extended
also. It was so unusual, our being here. Who would have guessed, or
believed? I wondered what I'd write for my paper, "How I Spent My
Summer," for school.
Finally the count, seeing Julie and I gasp with ever greater
urgency and frequency, called a halt to the proceedings. He thanked his
guests for their attendance and bid them goodbye. Erica, however, he
asked to remain, with her feather. Quickly he unbound Mandy, who stood
rubbing her wrists while I and then Julie were released. Then he
ordered us forward in a further tour of the dungeon. "Now that your
needs have been attended to, we must continue our exploration," he said
commandingly. "Erica, see that they do not fall behind." With winking
eyes Erica urged us forward with tickling strokes of her feather on our
bare bottoms.
We had little choice but to traipse around behind the count, Erica
constantly at our tails if we showed the slightest recalcitrance. Every
so often she'd tickle up one or another of us just to see us flinch, hands
flying back to protect our bottom. Between her and the count I felt
quite captive.
Gazing at the machines, I wondered which if any of them I might
find myself tied to. Did the count have more difficult tortures in mind
for us? More painful trials? At Madam Persephone's he'd sworn to
torture us. Was that mere boasting? He had proved such a gentleman, I
was at a loss to say. Julie walked about mutely, a politely earnest look
on her face. Her arms were crossed musingly just under her breasts,
her shoulders raised slightly, as if she were a student at some college
seminar, observing dinosaurs. Save that her breasts were judderingly
bare and the rest of her naked also. Mandy, with childish glee, found
little things here and there that enraptured her attention. A certain
buckle, a ribbon left over from some prior girl's constraint. She asked
questions both insightful and silly, thoughtless of her nudity, of her
own possibility of being the subject of some future torment. I tried to
ignore Mandy's inquiries. I was neither contemplative student nor
immature busybody. Rather I did my best to appear attentive to the
count while avoiding the feather, mere survival, no more. Unlike the
lure of Dan, whom I'd yearned for in my puppy dreams by the pool,
watching him like a cat as he did laps in his Speedos, the count was
still an enigma to me. And a dangerous enigma at that. There seemed
something in him that even he could not control. It beckoned me,
repulsed me. I tried to shut him out, talk down any interest my mind
had in him or his awful, morbid toys. I felt a whisking up my bottom
crack and leapt forward.
"Pay attention," Erica admonished me. I brushed my nether cheeks
with my palms and attended to the count's lecture more closely.
Eventually we rounded through all of the count's favorite
appliances, and I hoped we might be allowed to dress. But then he
asked for volunteers to try some of the equipment. We looked at each
other. Erica hovered, feather at the ready. It would boil down to her, to
which bottom she liked best. Mine. I bolted forward, spurred by a
devious stab of the point of her feather right into my crack where my
anus was.
"Ah, Kimmy, I knew you wouldn't disappoint me," the count smiled.
I had both hands over my tushy as I approached him. I had put him off
last night, flirted mercilessly with him this morning, cheated him of a
mud wrestling victim, but I knew he could be denied no longer. Be
brave, I told myself. Bring out the best in him, not the worst. My
titties quavering, the willies fluttering in my stomach, I stopped
directly in front of him and stood erectly. I tried to focus on his
ruggedly handsome face but my eyes were lured downward to his raw,
exposed cock, stiffly displayed beneath his tuxedo coat. (He had never
put his trousers back on after our urinating at the posts.)
The count stroked my neck. He fished a dog collar from his coat
pocket. It was studded with gems. I gasped at its beauty, its value.
"You will wear it always while you are here, unless I say
otherwise. Even in your bath," the count said. Gravely he buckled it
around my neck, checked that it was snug. He locked it with a little
key. When I looked up a woman was standing next to me. She had
lustrous blonde hair and wore a nurse's cap. A collared vest was
buttoned tightly about her midsection, straining to keep closed over her
heavenly cleavage. Below she wore only panties. Her long, bare legs
ended in small feet shod with spiked heels. Her arms were bare, her
vest had no sleeves. She wore a stethoscope. On a piece of wood
jutting out from the nearest torture machine she'd plunked down her
purse-like medical kit.
"Ah, you're here," the count acknowledged her.
"Sorry, delivery and labor was hell today," she apologized.
"Are you a nurse?" I couldn't help asking.
"Please don't insult me," she said directly to me. "This is just a
costume the count wishes me to wear. I am a fully trained
gynecological doctor, with other associated degrees."
"I-I'm sorry," I apologized. She definitely had the ego of an M.D.
"I'm here for your safety. And for other reasons. To periodically
check your condition while you're in the dungeon, revive you if
necessary, check the size of your cunt to ensure that the very widest
implements are used on you." My eyes nearly popped from my head.
"Given your natural cuntal limitations down there, of course," she
explained helpfully. "Which no doubt will be expanded over time by
diligent efforts on the part of the count and his guests."
I shook visibly with fear. I could not run, nor hide, I was locked
behind double wooden doors in a room from which not even my screams
could escape. With cruel efficiency Dr. Elle (as I was soon to know her)
ordered me through the paces of a quick physical.
"Now open your mouth, say AHHH!" she ordered. I did as she asked.
I knew not how else to respond. Fifteen years old and about to embark
on a nude journey through sadism's deepest agonies. Eyes, ears, nose,
blood pressure, temperature, pulse, all were diligently checked, as if I
were a horse about to be auctioned. At the end she knelt before me,
probed my cunt briefly with a small light, then stood and went around
back and had me touch my toes. She made me open my ass with my
hands and examined my anus with her light. "You'll find her tight," she
warned the count. I was still bending over, not knowing she was
finished. "God, what a derriere!" she exclaimed admiringly. "I hope I
get a piece of it!" She laughed and, blushing, I realized she was done
and stood upright.
"Kimmy, the doctor must be paid for her services," the count
advised me solemnly.
"Yessir," I acknowledged, an eagerness creeping into my voice. I'd
been aroused right to the brink of orgasm at the pee post. I still
trembled unwillingly with sexual need.
"My boobs need some air," Dr. Elle instructed. "Would you open my
vest there, just over my bosoms?" I stepped up to her and complied.
The count fixed his eyes on my bare, nervously clenching bottom
cheeks, so soon to feel much more than just the coolness of the dungeon
air. I left the vest snugly buttoned round her tummy, pulled with some
effort to get the undone part of her vest open, over her breasts. At last
her cones popped out, hitting me in the face. Startled, I backed away.
Her big nipples joggled before me. The tall woman told me I was not
finished. "I wish to have them stimulated, with your tongue," she said,
heat in her voice. Slowly, unwillingly, I stuck out my little tongue and
then, carefully, touched it to the vermilion tip of her right breast. I
circled the pap once, twice, again. Her nipple erected itself. Then I
proceeded to the other breast. The count liked my posture in this, for I
was forced to lean forward and stick out my naked tushy at him.
Hopefully I withdrew my face and tongue from her newly
stiffened nipples. "Very good," Dr. Elle said calmly. "She is all yours,"
she said to the count.
Gently the count placed a hand on my back and led me to a massive
contraption of wood, the centerpiece of which was a buttery black
leather saddle resting over a long, broad beam of wood. Stirrups
dangled down. Small ankle-high cowboy boots with real spurs and a red
neckerchief waited. Perhaps unable to resist participating, Dr. Elle
joined us. As I surveyed the mute horse she asked me if I'd ever played
cowboy. I said I had but not like this. She took a key from the count
(who seemed to relish her presence), and undid my dog collar. Then she
tied the red scarf about my throat. She bade me slip off my heels and
step into the boots. I complied. "Those are all the togs you'll need for
indoor riding," she said. "Up now, mount!"
I got the toe of my boot in the nearest stirrup but, perhaps
because of fear or the height of the horse, I could not fling my leg high
enough to get it over the top of the saddle. Finally, amused, Elle pushed
me up by my soft hiney and I plopped down atop my ersatz steed. I sat
catching my breath, lifted the reins. The joggling of my proud tits
subsided. Looking down, I put a finger to the saddle and lifted my hips
slightly off it. Sure enough, I found a nubbin underneath me. I settled
reluctantly back down.
"She seems familiar with your ways," Elle said to the count.
"Julie enjoyed a ride on the rocking horse last night," he replied.
"This is not a rocking horse, dear," Elle told me. "Be a creative
girl and find a way to accommodate the count's wishes." I sat puzzled,
looking at her, at him. Then a thought occurred to me. The "horse" had
no neck, no head, no legs. It was all saddle, supported by a beam of
wood. I leaned forward, placing my hands on the horizontal beam where
it ran out from under the front of the saddle. Then I kicked my heels up
in back and hooked a toe on either side of the beam. I twisted my heels
inward so their spurs would be safely underneath the rear flange of my
saddle. This whole movement had the effect of upturning my ass,
presenting its satiny surface fully to the air.
"Is this what you want?" I asked him, frowning slightly, tongue
stuck musingly in my cheek. Elle and he acknowledged it was by
suddenly producing handcuffs and buckling my wrists together. Then,
with a second pair, they clipped together my ankles.
"Perfect riding weather, don't you think?" Elle said, testing the
air with a wetened finger.
"She needs a companion," the count said. Julie was quickly
examined and placed on the same bar, on a saddle facing me. She wore a
pink scarf and the same well-tooled boots. Our mouths were close
enough to kiss. Softly, we did, and wished each other luck. Mandy
scuttled about placing heavy blankets on the floor beneath us lest we
should fall. Erica, stepping out of her evening gown, took up position at
Julie's rear with a supple cane. Erica wore brief panties, a garter belt
and stockings suspended from it.
"We should be the ones with panties on," I said pleadingly to the
count as Elle selected a cane for herself. He dismissed my remark
without comment and Elle positioned herself at my pumpkin.
Julie and I, remembering our morning together, kissed again. Our
breasts were very close. We brushed them against each other. Our
sharp nipples scraped fleshlily against each other's proffered globes.
Behind us the women began caressing our bottoms. The beauty of our
asses was remarked upon; their suitability for caning. I must admit at
this moment I felt incredibly sexy, I have no idea why. All the
perversion swirling about me day after day must have altered my sense
of decency, propriety, of pleasures permitted, and those forbidden.
Pleasures in which one should only feel shame. I wriggled atop the
intrusive nubbin. It felt good. Elle drew the tip of her cane through my
clenching bottom crack. I shivered. Erica did a bit of exploring with
her own cane, into Julie's anus. Her tight ring resisted the entry.
Erica lifted up her cane. My darting gaze must have let Julie know
she was going to get it. She tried to flex her ass cheeks wide, to buy
more time, more exploring caresses. Too late.
"Mmmfph!" Julie cried, biting her lip, as the first stroke flashed
down. I engaged her in a kiss to assuage the pain.
"Let's not forget our other beauty," the count told Elle. I braced
myself.
"Remember the Hippocratic oath!" I cried to her. It was no use.
"Owww!" I yelped, eyes bulging, as I met with my first taste of
the cane in the dungeon. I rubbed my breasts harder against Julie's,
"rode" with my slit atop the nubbin, as a searing bar of heat spread
across my virgin-white ass.
The whippy canes came down again, burning new lines across our
bare wiggling tushys. Julie and I rode like true caballeros on our
nubbins now, wondering when their inevitable, excruciating erection
from the saddle would begin.
Slowly my salacious ass was crisscrossed with sizzling lines of
pink and red. Agonizingly I strove to hang on and not fall from the
horse. I was scared I might suffer a worse fate if I did, like breaking a
bone (not to mention facing the count's wrath). I bounded up at a
particularly wicked stinger from Elle.
"It's nothing you can't take, dear," she said reassuringly. She
waited while I churned my hips under the blow, trying to shake off the
sting. "Ready?" she asked, and smartly delivered its brother. Some
doctor! I bit my lip, then drove my tongue into Julie's mouth in
desperation at the burning.
Poor Julie! Her sweet ass had barely recovered from last night,
and now here she was on another whipping horse. Little did we know
then that the count had at least one other variety, a sawhorse over
which a girl was made to drape herself. All was bleary pain now, mixed
with jolts of pleasure as we furiously applied our clits to the nubbins.
My saddle was slick beneath me now.
I heard a humming sound. Suddenly I found my nubbin was not so
small. Like some rocket on Thunderbirds it began rising from its
saddle-silo. Its duty was not to fly, though, but to burrow. Throwing
my weight on my hands, balancing with the toes of my boots, I
attempted to rise. I lifted my arcing thighs up to avoid the ascending
cock. Julie did the same. We looked down at the menacing rods,
growing ever longer inch by inch.
"Oh, you must want them at their maximum extent," the count said
gaily. We gasped, horrified. Erica and Elle took advantage of our
elevated, deliciously flourished bottoms and set to flaying them with
even greater vigor. Smartly they brought down the cane on each of us,
whip! whip! whip! We wriggled, brimming with tears. There was no
let up, no mercy.
Finally, overcome by exhaustion, Julie settled herself on her
unwelcome seat mate before it could grow any bigger. I held out,
watching it between head-snapping licks of the cane. Eight inches,
nine, ten inches!!
"You'd better sit down," Elle warned. Even my doctor didn't advise
my little body to take any more than that.
"She's keeping her ass up so I can fuck her there instead," the
count told Elle. That did it. I took in a deep breath and plopped down.
Gratefully, Elle caught my bottom in its descent. "Slowly, slowly
little girl," she said. The prick stopped moving. Gradually she eased me
down onto it. I shuddered, bottom hot, cunt splitting wide to receive
this most unwelcome visitor. Its greased length slid up me, flexing
naturally to adjust to the shape of my passage. Finally I settled, wide-
eyed, in my saddle. Julie purred and kissed my cheeks.
Sitting atop our artificial pricks, the caning began anew. It was
lighter now, as if we had passed some milestone. Yet each cut had its
special little sting. Elle gave me a flurry of them, as the prick began
moving up and down within me. Julie gasped, said that the rocking
horse had not done this. Manfully we were rodded by the robot cocks. I
tried to avoid orgasming on such a ridiculous contraption, found myself
drawn perilously closer and closer. I shivered as my climax finally
drew near. Then, keening into Julie's ear, I cried out with the first
tearing rush of orgasmic pleasure. She broke into a scream of her own.
We humped ourselves upon the moving penises. We were captive
songbirds, singing erotic cowboy songs. Elle and Erica whacked our
spirited bottoms with loving strokes of the cane. My golden hair,
lustrous and beautiful as ever, swirled in a mass of curls about me.
Julie bobbed her svelte auburn mane, writhing and twisting as I was,
atop her merciless mount. Our scarves flapped, wishing to fly away.
Lovingly, laughingly, we were pulled off the thick spires at last
by Elle and Erica as the count lowered them. Each cock gave up our snug
cunt with a little pop. Gratefully we gained our footing on the hard
floor. I fell against Elle, unable to stand. She helped me upright. With
throbbing fannies we approached the count, briskly rubbing ourselves as
we took mincing, baby steps toward him, our legs akimbo. Hair still
glossy, makeup smeared but still on perfect faces, earrings aglitter,
we presented ourselves boobies first to him. There was no fight left in
us. We wished only to please.
"Thank you, master," we said in unison, our voices ragged but
sweet.
"Yes," he said, regarding us, cherishing our still flawless figures,
our breasts so nicely turned up, hips outcurving smoothly, legs slim and
tapered. "This is your playroom. Where you can hoot and holler as
lustily as you please, often for the mutual pleasure of others. Enjoy
your young bodies. Relish the feelings that course through them. Work
hard to please your masters, and they will reward you with new
delights. I have made young females my life's study, from the
sacrificed maidens of the Incas to the nubile witches burned at Salem,
to girls in ancient Athens trained in the rights of the bacchanal. There
is nothing about your bodies I do not know. Their possibilities,
limitations, yet I learn more with each trial, each experiment.
Upstairs you will be treated as royalty, your every need attended to,
your every wish instantly answered. Down here is where the vestments
will be stripped away, your natural selves delivered forth into the
hands of the revolutionaries. Nothing is free. Everything must be paid
for. But you will find your payments a kind of homework, designed to
improve. Cherish them. Savor each biting stroke of cane or whip or
tawse or paddle...or martinet or cat with nine delicious tails. You will
experience them all, my sweets. Much, much more than Madam
Persephone could ever provide, yet, unlike her, each calculated
precisely so that it makes you grow in knowledge and an awareness of
your own precious bodies. You will become intimately acquainted with
your flesh as it is brought sparkling to life by the many implements of
agitation. Your bottoms will veritably bloom under all the attention
they are given, like hothouse roses in winter. Your nipples will be
plucked at and tested and sucked upon remorselessly, yet not without
thought for their continuing beauty, their perkiness, their stiff
loveliness. And your mouths, and your cunts and ah, yes, especially
your tight little assholes, how they will be tested! We shall just see
what they can take and what they cannot. But you need not fear. Many
girls have passed this way before. And when you are busy with the
grown-up chores of wife and mother (the real grown-up chores, Julie,
not just newlywed trysts with your husband), other girls will be
following in your footsteps, young maidens with untried cunnies and
bottoms."
Julie and I heard all this in a daze, drunk with both our lingering
pleasure and pain, and the alcohol from dinner still with its hold upon
us. For all we knew he could have been reciting the Bible, albeit the
juicier parts. He then urged us into the hands of Elle and Erica, saying
that it was needful that our bottoms be quickly attended to. We were
led away as he found Mandy, huddled in a corner, balling herself up as
small as she could. She, no doubt, had heard his oration better than we.
"Come, Mandy! And bring your naughty bottom with you!" he
roared. He grasped her by the hand and dragged her gently from her
hiding place.
30
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